NIDA and bAKEHOUSE serve up blasphemy with a wink in Cadaver Synod. A corpse on trial, clergy in chaos, and ambition dressed as devotion. It’s dark, it’s ridiculous and it’s historically accurate in the worst possible way — and absolutely not for anyone who prefers their religion tidy, polite, or unexamined. Everyone else? Step inside. The irony is thick, but the corpse is the least horrifying thing in the room.

In this fever‑dream slice of history, a newly crowned Pope Stephen finds himself dragging his dead predecessor into a courtroom to stage a divine flex as the clergy scramble, scheme, murder, and cower. Cadaver Synod leans into dense ecclesiastical imagery and a streak of irreverent humour to show just how effortlessly people can sanctify their own cruelty and selfishness “in the name of our Lord God,” while doing nothing that resembles helping anyone at all.

The sacramental backstabbing unfolds inside designer Alice Vance’s marble‑cold catacomb. This crypt, dominated by an imposing crucifix platform, is both a physical symbol and a moral indictment where faith is performed as much as it is betrayed.

Mathew Lee’s direction capitalises on posturing claustrophobia to sharpen the moral stakes and the character’s tight, tactical strategising.The razor‑sharp sound and lighting design by Cameron Smith and Frankie Clarke amplifies that tension. It snaps between the divine and the everyday with jarring precision, as if the heavens themselves cannot decide whether to bless or condemn what unfolds below.

Though set in the 9th century, Ruby Blinkhorn laces the script with modern colloquialisms and camp wit. This collapses the distance between then and now; these holy men are recognisably human and contemporary, which is exactly why the impact lands with a sharp sting of recognition. Idealism collapses into self‑preservation, and the system devours the very people who believe they can cleanse it, as a kaleidoscope of individuals—some resisting, some enabling—keep this corrupt cycle turning. The cast navigates these shifting currents with impressive agility, moving through the play’s tonal movement with precision.

Nat Jobe’s Pope Stephen is the most dangerous kind of leader: charismatic, certain, and untouchably devout. Nothing’s more unstable than a man convinced God agrees with him, so convinced of his own righteousness that he cannot see the wreckage in his wake. Jobe peels him open slowly, revealing the cracks beneath the divine certainty — the uncomfortable truth that leadership begins where self‑myth ends.

Opposite him, Luke Fewster is mesmerising as Cardinal John –  an Iago‑in‑robes. Silver‑tongued and strategically merciless, John is fluent in political survival. Religion serves him well as a conduit for influence — and Fewster makes his conniving thrilling. Leon Walshe’s Gabriel balances this as innocence incarnate—sensitive, pure of heart, and perfectly positioned to be sacrificed by a system that breaks the gentle first. Walshe brings a quiet luminosity to the role, sharpening the ache of his inevitable trajectory.

Mark Langham gives Father Paul a fascinating combination of wise and weary authenticity. Having survived the reigns of thirteen popes, he understands the machinery of power perfectly and knows everything comes out eventually. Conversely, Diego Retamales plays Abraham with maddening mulishness. He represents the gormless pawn whose complicity allows corruption to thrive—the cog who keeps his head down because obedience is safer than truth.

Yasna Delo plays Lucia, the production’s lone woman, with bite. Evoking a calculating, Lady Macbeth-style ambition, she knows she is nothing without the king—realising her power exists through weaponized marriage, pregnancy and shaky alliances. Religion is just another tool.

Cadaver Synod is an exciting new work on indie scene with all the deliciously ruthless cut‑throat manoeuvring of a certain crown‑hungry saga — except here the throne is a pulpit and the knives are dipped in holy water. Hilarious, disturbing and sacrilegiously sharp — its wickedly unholy reminder that when it comes to religion, power is the real doctrine.

Cadaver Synod plays from 27 May – 6 Jun At KXT on Broadway.

For further details see ;https://events.humanitix.com/nida-cadaver-synod

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